


Joining the Pack

by AnimalCops



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Werewolves, first wizarding war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-27 01:10:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17756945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnimalCops/pseuds/AnimalCops
Summary: It was far too late to dodge the blow that was coming. He noticed the swing too late; but the motion was moving slowly as if just to tease him. He took it to the jaw, the hard fist knocking his head to the side and sending him sprawling onto the ground. He slid a little on the dew dampened grass of the forest, his back knocking into a tree, head thrown back to collide with the bark.





	1. The First Wizarding War

It was far too late to dodge the blow that was coming. He noticed the swing too late; but the motion was moving slowly as if just to tease him. He took it to the jaw, the hard fist knocking his head to the side and sending him sprawling onto the ground. He slid a little on the dew dampened grass of the forest, his back knocking into a tree, head thrown back to collide with the bark.

Remus brought a hand up and touched where he had been hit. Then a little higher. He felt something wet, warm. Pulling his hand back, he saw the blood. His lip must have split with the force of the punch and the rage and hate that carried it through. 

He gave a small sort of smile, looking up at the other man. The same level of hate was bubbling up inside him, but Remus wasn’t one to show it straight away. He was one to hide it, let it boil. Let it bubble and pop and steam and jostle the cover of the pot that held it. And it would burst from him suddenly like the water from the heated pot. 

“Fenrir.”

The other man snarled, showing his teeth, almost feral even though he was very much still human. His fist clenched and Remus’ eyes were drawn to the movement of it. Fenrir was too far away from him right now for a follow through punch but Remus braced himself for it anyway. The larger man's one working eye narrowed. 

Remus licked his lower lip, tasting the coppery tinge of blood. "What brings you here?"

"You know very well why I am here, Pup." 

"Do I?" The younger man flinched back into the tree when Fenrir took a heavy footed step toward him. 

"You should." 

His brave front nearly slipped as Fenrir took another threatening step. He forced a smirk up at the other man. "I don't. Maybe you could fill me in a little?"

Fenrir moved swiftly, his hand moving so fast that Remus couldn't track it. It grabbed him by the front of his shirt; those sharp, dirty fingernails scratched at the skin of his chest through the fabric. Remus' breath hitched, getting lodged in his throat. He was lifted up forcibly, dragged to his feet and slammed hard into the tree's trunk. The older werewolf leaned in slowly and inhaled deeply. He let out a low rumbling growl deep in his throat. 

Remus turned his head to the side, trying to hold his breath. The larger man smelled of blood, sweat, and dirt. Remus swallowed hard. 

The elder werewolf smirked, elongated canines glinting bright in the moonlight that cast down through the trees. “I know who you’re working with, Pup.”

Remus tensed and gasped as Fenrir pushed him harder into the tree at those words. His hands gripped at the bark and he could feel the rough wood peel away at his skin. “I’m not working with anyone!"

"You're working for him aren't you? For Dumbledore. Trained you like a right little lapdog, didn't he?"

"You're wrong!" Remus snapped, struggling against the grip that held him to the tree. 

"Am I?" Fenrir snarled. He released his grip on the younger man and took a step backwards. He watched as Remus landed on his feet, back still against the tree to keep his balance. Fenrir clapped his hands together as though he were ridding them of filth. "You don't mind telling me what you're doing in my territory then, do you, Pup?"

Remus exhaled, shaky and nervous, his brave front all but vanished. He took some time to calm his breathing before responding. "I don't want to live in wizarding society any longer."

The older werewolf seemed taken aback, he huffed a heavy breath and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Didn’t that father of yours ever tell you not to tell fibs, Little One?”

“I’m not joking!” The rage burst from him in a rush. He couldn’t take holding it in any longer. Trying to play everything cool rarely lasted long. This night was burrowing anxiety under his skin and he was having a hard time shaking it. He surged forward, teeth bared. He launched himself at the other man, slamming him down, both bodies crashing into the forest floor. 

Fenrir snarled his surprise, pushing the rabid twenty year old off of him. He pushed the writhing wolf down, holding him to the grass with a hand on his chest. “Fuck’s wrong with you, you little bastard?!” Fenrir spat blood in the grass to the right of Remus’ head. He had bit his tongue when he hit the ground. 

“I hate it!” Remus yowled like a scalded cat; twisting furiously, as he tried to slip from Fenrir’s steady strength. “I hate this!”

“Calm. Down!” The wolf roared. 

And Remus froze. 

His body tensed, eyes went wide, mouth snapped shut. Instinct buzzed through him in an icy chill through his veins. _Fenrir was in charge_ his body suddenly screamed to his mind. But his mind revolted the thought. That monster could never be in charge of him. Never. Fenrir was a beast, a horror, a nightmare, and Remus never would willingly go near him. But that was the thing. This was not willingly done; he had been forced into this. He may have offered his services, but if he were honest with himself, who else in the Order could have done it? He was their only werewolf. He was their secret weapon. 

Now he was trapped. He was meant to weasel his way into the pack and be a spy. But Fenrir has shut his own body down with one order. How?

“Fucking. _Talk_.” The wolf snarled, pushing hard on his chest. 

Had he been talking before this? 

“I don’t want to do it anymore,” Remus gasped, lungs burning as his chest was pushed on. One of his hands moved by itself to grasp at Fenrir’s wrist. 

“What?”

“Pretend!” He cried, eyes closing tight. Emotion burst from him. This was all happening wrong. He wanted to be a wizard. He didn’t want to pretend about his lycanthropy. He didn’t want to hide in the shadows and worry about mothers ushering away their children from him. He wanted to live a normal wizard’s life!

“Talk.” Fenrir said again. He lessened the pressure on Remus’ chest but he still held him down, obviously not trusting him. 

“I don’t want to pretend anymore. I don’t want to hide. I want to be accepted!” It was all so true. But he should be telling this to his friends, not his worst enemy. Not the man who made him this way. Not his curse. His heart clenched. He was full to bursting with these feelings; the thoughts he had kept under lock and key for all his life were coming out and were facing the man he hated more than anything. 

"Pup," Fenrir's voice was unlike Remus had ever heard it. Wide green eyes met with the one working amber one. The voice was gravley and deep, and Remus could feel its power. Could feel how anyone could be drawn and commanded and _controlled_. Or was that just the wolf in him? The silence after the spoken word broke a few moments later. "Pup," he said again, "you don't have to suffer at the hands of scum like them." Remus wasn't sure if he was referring to Dumbledore's cronies or to humanity in general. "You're unique, special. You're pack."

"Pack." Remus whispered, almost breathless. His heart swelled at the word and he couldn't understand why.

"Yes, Little One," Fenrir crooned softly, moving his hand away from Remus' chest, watching as it rose in a shuddering breath. "You're pack."

Remus swallowed hard. His mind was racing. He stared at Fenrir and croaked weakly, "How do I join?"


	2. The Second Wizarding War

He was older now, Remus mused to himself. His tired eyes examined the man before him. Granted Remus didn’t consider himself young anymore either. Fenrir was undoubtedly older, but still seemed just as energetic and fierce as he had when Remus had last seen him over ten years ago. 

The elder man snarled, more feral than the last time Remus had seen it. Those sharp, elongated canines glinted in the moonlight. They were tinted yellow and stained red in places. His flesh was dirty and scarred. The messy, scraggly, black hair was streaked with grey in places and pulled back into a low ponytail. The long scar that cut through his right eye looked worse than usual. The other eye, amber and bright, was narrowed. He was sharper angles now in his old age. 

It seemed as though Fenrir was furious, but Remus couldn’t bring himself to care much. He stood there, once again just beyond the invisible border of Fenrir’s territory. Remus himself looked much the same; however he was more scarred, more grey, and shabbier than he used to be. 

Remus rolled his shoulders and straightened his spine. He back cracked slightly, bones popping. The moon was coming tomorrow and Remus’ body already ached. Fenrir, on the other hand, was nearly sparking with energy. 

“What are you doing back here, mutt?” Fenrir snapped, gnashing his teeth in anger. 

No ‘Pup’ this time, no niceties. 

“I need somewhere to go.” Remus grunted, his voice a weak croak of exhaustion. 

“Go to one of your human friends.” Fenrir spat. He waved his hand dismissively, uncaring of the other werewolf’s misfortunes. 

“Dead.” Remus said, shifting slightly, posture slipping. Showing weakness, showing vulnerability.

The elder werewolf inhaled sharply, drinking in the sight of the other man. "Unfortunate." 

"And so," The younger man began, his voice shaky and nervous, "And so, I wanted to… join the pack."

Fenrir blinked at him. Once, twice, and then barked out a laugh. "You've got to be joking!" He flashed those blood-stained teeth in a grin. "I fell for that once already. And you know what, _Remus_?" 

Remus took a step back, an involuntary shudder running down his spine at the sound of his name being spoken by his worst nightmare. He swallowed hard and met that amber eye again. "What?"

"I'm not going to fall for it again." Fenrir snarled, stepping slowly closer.

The younger man bit his lower lip and stumbled a few steps back. He nearly tripped over the root of a tree that had burst through the surface of the forest floor. Remus didn't want to know what Fenrir was thinking, didn't want to know what he would do if he got closer. He backed into the trunk of a large tree and his breath hitched in his chest and caught there. 

Remus could feel his hands shaking as he thought back all those years ago, when he was in this exact situation. His mind flashed suddenly to when his younger self was pressed to the bark. He clenched his fists, body going tense as his fear hit its peak. 

“You think I’ll allow you in the pack? Why?” 

“I’ve nowhere to go,” Remus said, his voice higher in pitch out of fear, “the Full is tomorrow.”

Fenrir snorted derisively, taking another step closer. “You think I care where you go at the Full?”

“I could bite someone!”

Fenrir paused in his movements. A slow moment of silence washed over the two of them before he burst out in harsh, loud, laughter. “And you think- you honestly think I would give a fuck?”

Remus flinched back, his arm jerking back suddenly and knocking against the tree. "I…"

"You've gone grey, but you've still got the mindset of a pup." Fenrir chuckled. 

"I-"

"You think we'll protect you? Stop you from biting anyone if you're part of the pack?" He moved forward again, and Remus had nowhere to go. His face fell quickly from laughter to anger.

The smell hit him, just like it had more than ten years ago; the blood, the dirt, the sweat. He closed his eyes and turned his head away, not wanting to take a breath. But a hand gripped his chin as Fenrir stood directly in front of him. Sharp, claw-like fingernails dug into his flesh as Fenrir forced his head to turn. Remus swallowed hard, and clenched his eyes shut tighter. 

"Look at me, Pup." Fenrir snarled, his warm breath ghosting over Remus' skin. 

Remus swallowed again, trying to turn his head to the side again. He gasped as those dirty claw-like nails pierced his flesh, fresh blood dripping down his cheek. Fenrir forced his head back again and a low growl let loose in his chest. 

" _Look at me._ " 

His eyes opened immediately and he gasped as the fingernails squeezed harder, cutting deeper into his face. Remus could feel his breathing speed up. Just like last time; the overwhelming command in the other werewolf’s voice was driving Remus to obey. The blood dripped freely now, getting caught in Remus' greying scruff, staining the lighter hairs a sickening crimson. 

"Good." Fenrir's working eye narrowed further. "Why do you think we would stop you?"

"I-"

"We _wouldn't._ " Fenrir snarled. "Do you even _know_ me, Pup? You came to Hell for sanctuary."

"I've nowhere else to go!" Remus gasped. 

The elder werewolf smirked, drawing his hand back suddenly. “Nowhere?”

“No…” His voice came out in a soft whisper, and for a moment he wasn’t sure if he had even said the word. 

“What about Lyall’s cellar?” Fenrir said with a rumbling purr to his voice. 

“No,” Remus said, trying to shake off the bait. He didn't want to leak anything about his father; he didn't want Fenrir going after his father again. “No, I don’t see my father very much anymore.”

“And the shack up at the school?” 

“H- How do you… how do you know about the shack?”

“I never stopped watching you, Pup.” Fenrir lifted his hand once more to Remus’ face, dragging a sharp fingernail down his cheek. He smirked at the look of disgust that crossed the younger man’s features. Those green eyes closed tight. "It's hard to hide the scent of a werewolf in a world of wizards. You ought to know that yourself."

Remus' blood went cold in his veins at the touch. He felt a tremble run down his spine and he could smell that smell stronger the longer the hand stayed close. Fenrir's mix of blood, sweat, and earth. “But-” 

“And where have you been going for the Full since? Surely a cautious little wolf like you would have a plan." 

"You… You said you never stopped watching. Shouldn't you know the answer to that?" His breathing was fast, shaky, uneven. He wasn't sure if his route was a safe one but he had a mission and he needed to complete it.

"Ooh." Fenrir cooed, a deep chuckle rising. "Oh, you're such a clever Pup." He pushed the claw to the underside of Remus' chin, forcing his head to raise. "I know you went to the Ministry holding cells after you graduated and those friends of yours were killed or locked away. But why aren't you there now?"

Remus swallowed hard and Fenrir's good eye tracked the movements of his throat. The younger werewolf opened his eyes and Fenrir met them. Remus was frowning, "I haven't got any money left."

For a moment, the elder of the two was taken aback. He snarled suddenly, lips drawing back to bare fangs to the moonlight. "They _charge_ you? To be locked in a shitty little cell and rip yourself to fuckin' pieces?" 

Remus flinched back, though he had nowhere to go except press himself harder to the tree trunk. "Yes-"

"It costs you _money_ to be thrown back into the streets without so much as bandages?"

"How do you-?" 

"You _pay_ them to treat you like a dying mutt lying in the fuckin' gutter?" The snarls and growls were louder now. Fenrir was seething, his teeth clenched, chest heaving with the effort of trying to keep himself calm. This was obviously a sore spot for him, and Remus knew that.

"I had nowhere else-" He was so close and that smell was invading his space. Dirt, blood, sweat, _power_ , _anger_ , _rage_. 

"And now, you've come crawling back… to me." He drew his hand back from under Remus' chin, the sharp point of nail catching and drawing blood. He crossed his arms over his chest and sucked in a deep breath, as if trying to ground himself. He exhaled, slow and long. That single amber eye looked Remus up and down, examining his every feature, each movement, each breath he took. 

"I… have."

"But why should I take you back? A traitor to werewolves has turned traitor to wizards? You've done this once before, Pup."

"I-"

"Are you planning on… staying? The pack will keep an eye on you. I will keep an eye on you, Little One." He gave a huff of breath, almost a laugh. "Scruffy little mutt that you are. Sneaky like a street dog."

"I'll stay." Remus said automatically, not wasting a moment.

Fenrir arched a brow, a smile curving one side of his mouth. "You'll stay?" He shifted, unable to move closer but wanting to still show his dominance over the other man. He stood straighter, towering even more over Remus who was certainly taller than average. 

"I'll stay. You can watch me. Just-" He felt desperation leak into his voice. Or was it fear? The mission. Focus. "Just please, let me stay."

"Oh, _Remus_. How could I deny my special little favorite?" His smile widened when he saw that involuntary shudder run through the 30 year old as he spoke his name. 

"So, I can stay?"

"Yes. So as long as you follow the rules, Pup." Fenrir pulled Remus away from the tree, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to manhandle him. "Come. Let's get you somewhere _safe_ for the Full."


End file.
